


just to be with you

by gingergenower



Series: a world that we design [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: (no slurs), Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Period-Typical Racism, Romance, because it's not angst but it's a lil bit tense, i don't know what this is honestly, the greatest showman au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 04:39:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13287177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: This is enough. This is all she wants.





	just to be with you

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song [tightrope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=He5NctQPXK8)

Graphite skating lightly across her sketchbook, Michelle doesn’t need Peter here to know his body in motion. It’s like there’s already an outline on the page she can follow- he’s throwing himself through the air, legs curved backwards and arms outstretched.

She’s sat on the platform leading onto the practice tightrope, only ten feet high, one of her legs hanging off the edge. Leaning against the ladder, her sketchbook’s in her lap because she had been watching Peter practice, but Stark asked to speak to him about something or other in his office.

He paused to press a kiss to her forehead as he scurried down the ladder, skipping off only a few minutes ago. She didn’t know how much he’d been restraining himself until they came here, affectionate and sweet and so _proud_ to be with her.

She smiles slightly, defining the strokes of his shoulders, a surer impression of his physique.

Distracted, she isn’t paying attention when she hears voices at the public entrance of the circus, but the show isn’t on for a few more hours and she’s alone, so she glances up and her gaze sticks.

One of the acrobats, Cindy, asks him to wait by the entrance. She looks a little confused but disappears into the curtains behind the stage, and the man takes his hat off, looking around. Michelle recognises him, immediately.

He’s the director of the circus Peter saved her from.

Ducking back into her sketchbook, she tries to remember what she’d just been drawing, but he laughs and she knows she’s been seen.

‘You’re a performer.’ His voice rings clear in the quiet tent, and he smirks. ‘One of the freak show.’

Gently, she smooths her finger over Peter’s lower lip, shading it in slightly. ‘No, I’m a stagehand.’

There’s a pause. ‘You know, I’ve come here today about you.’

She hears him take a few steps towards her, but she doesn’t react, adjusting the angle of her sketchbook to add detail to his hair.

‘They’re going to get rid of you like I was going to,’ he says, confident. ‘I’m going to tell Mr Stark what you did-’

‘He’ll prefer it if you call him Director Stark, actually.’ Peter’s hair is a little longer than it used to be, and sometimes his curls are unruly. She shades one in.

The director doesn’t seem to know what to say. ‘Did you _interrupt_ me?’

‘Yes. And it’s just what he likes,’ Michelle says. For some reason, an irrational calm has settled in her. It’s almost like her stubbornness won’t allow her heart to race or her hands to shake. She won’t be frightened. ‘And a patron of your circus might believe what you have to say about me, but I’m not sure he will. I’d suggest you’re wasting your time.’

Stark likes her, a strange, abrupt sort of fondness between them.

‘You- how dare _you_ -’

Finally looking up at him, she gestures to the door. ‘You can go.’

He seems speechless, but it doesn’t take him long to find something else to spit at her, but she doesn’t flinch. ‘You know he’ll leave you. Peter will find a girl he can marry and he’ll leave, he doesn’t really care about _you_.’

For a moment, she considers all his jarring fury. ‘It’s like you don’t know what love is.’

‘Love? You can’t _love_ each other, you’re nothing but an easy distraction to him-’

‘You’re not an authority on what we are.’

It takes him a moment to gather himself together, spitting the words at her. ‘I was _talking_.’

‘I hardly care.’

His jaw drops. She presses her lips together, eyebrows raised, and leans back over her sketchbook.

Saying nothing else, she draws, aware of his heavy breathing and unmoving figure out of the corner of his eye. She’s not sure what he’s going to do when he moves again, that cane tight in his hand, but she never finds out- there’s a shout, and Peter hurtles into the room, Stark and Cindy at his heels.

Peter pauses, seeming to shrink a little in relief at seeing Michelle, but Stark strides past him, smile in place and hand outstretched to shake.

‘Good afternoon! I’ve just been informed that you’d like to speak to me,’ he says, and Michelle watches, interested. ‘And you wouldn’t say what about.’

Peter walks over, standing a few paces behind Stark, and he’s positioned directly in front of the bottom of the ladder, hands in tight fists at his sides. He’s guarding her.

‘I’d rather do this in private,’ the director says, but Michelle flips her sketchbook shut, the snap catching Stark’s attention.

‘If you like, I can summarize the conversation you’ll have.’

Stark grins. ‘By all means.’

‘He doesn’t like me very much.’

‘Really? I like you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. You’re not nearly as irritating as Peter.’

Michelle tries not to smile, leaning over the platform to stick her tongue out at Peter when he glances up at her. The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t quite smile, his eyes still dark with worry.

‘Did you really come all this way to tell me that?’ Stark asks. ‘What an awfully wasted trip.’

‘It’s more complicated than that-’

‘Is it?’

The director chooses his words carefully, but he’s clearly frustrated. ‘There are certain matters about her that you deserve to know.’

Several more stagehands, performers, have heard the noise and come to investigate, coming out from behind the curtain. They’re gathering an audience.

‘You mean the accusations of theft? I’m well aware of them,’ Stark says. ‘Peter kindly informed me when writing to request the job here. I took it all under consideration before I offered her a job.’

Michelle feels as wrong-footed as the director, staring at the back of Stark’s head.

‘She-’

‘Has thus far, taken nothing.’ Stark pats the director’s shoulder. ‘I consider myself enormously lucky.’

‘You know she stole?’

‘I know you intended to _accuse_ her of theft,’ Stark says airily. ‘I don’t consider the two to be the same. Now, if that’s all you came here to say, please feel you can leave, I’m a very busy man.’

The director stares around, at the watching crowd, at Stark, at Peter, finally at her. ‘You-’

‘ _Don’t_.’ Peter’s voice is hard.

There’s a moment’s tension, then he turns on his heel and stalks away. A couple of the performers march over, but Michelle doesn’t hear what they say to Stark because Peter scrambles up the ladder, kneeling next to her, hand cupping her cheek. His eyes are frantic.

‘Are you ok?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘I had no idea he was here, I’m so sorry-’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she says, holding his hand in place, eyes fluttering closed. ‘Thank you for coming.’

After a few moments, he pulls her into a hug, holding her tight. It’s as if he’s trying to show her how securely he belongs to her, and she buries her face in his shoulder and breathes him in.

She doesn’t notice everyone else leave, Stark ushering them out, but it takes them both a while to settle- Peter looks a little unsteady on the wire, and she opens the sketchbook’s cover, touching the message etched in the front cover.

The first Monday they were paid, he left the sketchbook and a new set of pencils on her desk. They didn’t know what they could or couldn’t say, didn’t know if they could be seen as anything other than acquaintances, so he didn’t sign it but he wrote in it all the same.

‘Do you think you’ll ever marry?’

He frowns, turning to look at her. ‘We can’t.’

‘-of course.’ She bites her lip, looks down.

Her favourite drawing of him so far is only a few pages into the book. He’s curled in a chair by her desk, blanket pulled up to his chin. He had been talking to her while he worked, but he fell asleep and she liked having him so close, so she didn’t wake him.

Closing the sketchbook, she puts it down carefully next to her.

‘Perhaps I’m the one who owes you an apology,’ she says, meeting his gaze steadily.

He doesn’t react, only makes his way to her, holding his hand out to help her stand. ‘Why?’

‘Well,’ she says, making sure he’s standing on the platform with her, almost chest to chest, and she smiles slightly. ‘I told him I love you. It might have been better to tell you first.’

Peter’s eyes close, and he rests his forehead against her shoulder, hands slipping around her waist to hold her close. ‘Oh.’

It’s more a sigh than a word, and she smiles, embracing him back.

‘I think I can find it in me to forgive you.’

‘I’m so glad.’

‘Mostly because I love you too.’

She wants to say something witty in response, but can’t think of anything, so she only holds him tighter.

This is enough. This is all she wants.

**Author's Note:**

> in case anyone’s wondering why the director doesn’t have a name a) I didn’t want to associate any canon characters with his racism and b) racist shitbags don’t deserve names because they aren’t worth remembering


End file.
